ambivalence

On the way out of my apartment grounds this morning, I almost collided with a yellow caterpillar marked by black stripes hanging finely by a thread, causing me to pause in my tracks and rivet my eyes on it for what seems to be seconds too long. What nerve does it have to block and dominate the field path, I thought, revolted. I was appalled by the thought that this mere creature has successfully intimidated me and caused me to waiver, such that i was figuring a way to bypass it without touching it at all (mind you, the track may be narrow but the field is huge), not because I was concerned about ruining its chances on becoming a butterfly, but because I was simply repelled by it.

While taking a little detour around the caterpillar, i muttered “That is so disgusting!” involuntarily, feeling a pang of guilt right after the words escaped from my mouth. Now, what nerve do I have to label the works of nature as disgusting?

Today is one of those rare days where I feel my life has split into two, just like in the film Sliding Doors. In one timeline, I’m on my scheduled flight back to Seattle for my graduation ceremony and getting myself ready for graduate school in Pittsburgh. In this timeline which became tangible as soon as I laid out my decisions, I will be working for a full year in Asia because of a sudden job offer before I make a move for graduate school.

I wonder about different possibilities and outcomes. Indeed I will be gaining valuable working experience that is beneficial for my career development. But by choosing to stay and defer graduate school, I am opening up new doors and causing a wave of ripples that alters a myriad other possible futures, meeting people I would have otherwise not met and experiencing a whole set of unique encounters not possible in the other timeline.